The children gather 'round the gnarled tree.
Its branches splinter
As they giggle with glee.
The aged tree soars into the sky.
'Round its perimeter
Kids dance until last light.
When dawn meets the horizon a hush fills the air.
The children rush out--
The tree is not there!
Confusion and dismay fills their tender hearts
When they see the tree
Cut up into parts.
One post is slammed into the ground
While a crown of thorns
Adorns Jesus's brow.
The other post bears his broken frame
As men raise him up
And mock his holy name.
A few gather 'round the gnarled tree.
It's beams splintered
With grief and weeping.
But what was meant for death and shame
Has become the means
By which we honor his name.
July 2006, Glen Alan Woods
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